


Pocketful of SANSshine

by SEABlRD



Category: Undertale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bittybones, Other, POV Second Person, Reader Insert, Reader Is Not Frisk, oh no dont make the small skele cry u big meanie, you accidentally steal a bittybones, you are not prepared, your friend adopts a bittybones, your friend is on top of their shit man they are PREPARED
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 21:12:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6723616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SEABlRD/pseuds/SEABlRD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>thats an unnecessarily deep title for the content in question, but nonetheless! slightly inspired by this one post i vaguely remember about someone working in a pet shop and accidentally stealing a baby bird<br/>-----<br/>Your friend drags you to the adoption center to pick out the perfect Bitty to adopt!  But they're not the only one out there picking...</p><p>[edit] I CHANGED THE TITLE BECAUSE I MISSED SUCH A GOOD OPPORTUNITY THE FIRST TIME WHY DO I KEEP DOING THIS</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pocketful of SANSshine

**Author's Note:**

> It's not Brief Encounters, but it's something ( ;v;)b 
> 
> i hope you enjoy! I found there not enough Soft Bones bitties! everybody wants an Edgy, or a Brassberry! give the poor sleepy bitty some love ;v;

You’re not sure why you’d agreed to this, but your friend insisted that you accompany them to the adoption center. You’d packed up all the things they’d need, gotten a small carrying cage, and lined it with soft blankets and toys. The only thing left was to adopt the lucky skelly.

Did you say skelly? As in, skeleton? Yeah, that’s right. You friend wants to adopt a skeleton, of all things. You’d told them that they should get a normal pet like everyone else, like a dog or a cat. Heck, even a bird sounds like less trouble than a skeleton. Oh, but they’re not full-size skeletons. Oh no. These are Bitty skeletons, about the size of your palm and perfect for carrying around. The kind of pet rich people would have and call them ‘exotic’. 

You have your hands in your pockets as you stand in a corner, watching your friend go absolutely nuts over a horde of small skeletons. At some point, they lie down on the floor and let the Bitties climb all over them. High pitched giggling from all parties involved can be heard throughout the room. 

Something catches your attention to your left, and you turn your head slightly to look at it. A small Bitty in a blue, starry hoodie stares up at you from a nearby shelf, eye sockets wide. You don’t remember what this kind is called, but you figure you don’t need to remember anyway. You stare back for a little bit, until it flushes a light blue and turns away. You turn away as well, looking where your friend has gotten to.

They’re talking animatedly with the lady at the front counter, holding a squirming red Bitty in their hands. Must be an Edgy or a Cherry, you think. Whatever, as long as it makes them happy.

You zone out for a bit again, only shaken out of it when your friend hands you the cage for their Bitty so they can sign the adoption papers. You take your hands out of your pockets and hold the cage up, looking inside. A little Edgy glares at you from the far corner, and he puts up his tiny middle fingers at you. 

Right back at ya, buddy.

You lower the cage a bit so that you’re not face to face with it. Your friend finishes up their discussion with the lady at the desk and meets you with an armful of supplies. 

“That was awesome! Look what I got for him, a bag of snacks, a blanket, and even a tiny bath bowl!” they say, enthusiastic. You eye the items in their hands dubiously. Seriously? Just a bunch of packets of mustard as a snack? There’s no way a Bitty can live off that.

They lead you back to their car and stow the things away in the trunk while you take your seat on the passenger side. You keep the cage on your lap for now, seeing as your friend wants to be as close to their Bitty as possible. You’re silent as they chat back and forth, mostly insults and sarcasm coming from the little Edgy. You friend doesn’t seem to mind.

The trip back to your friend’s home takes an agonizing twenty minutes, at least ten of which were spent trying to calm Edgy down when he started throwing a tantrum. Bitties are surprisingly strong, when they want to be, and you had difficulties holding onto the travel cage to prevent it from tipping over. 

Once your friend has everything set up in their apartment, you drop the Bitty’s cage in their hands and wave them goodbye.

You cannot get to your own apartment fast enough, and you sigh with relief when your familiar front door comes into view. You reach your hand into your pocket to pull out your keys-

Oh no. 

You draw your hand over something that’s partially smooth and partially fuzzy. Something that was definitely not there when you first walked into the adoption center. This is not looking good. You draw the smooth/fuzzy thing out of your pocket and nearly drop it in surprise.

The little Bitty in the blue starry hoodie from the shelf sits lightly in your palm, rubbing his eye sockets like he’s just waking up. No, no, no, no, you never asked for this. You fumble with your phone and hit speed-dial for your friend, who picks up on the second ring.

“Hey, buddy! Long time no see!” they joke, but you’re not really feeling it.

“I accidentally stole a Bitty.” 

There’s silence on the other end of the line and you have to pull your phone away from your ear to make sure you didn’t lose connection or get hung up on. You mutter a few ‘hello?’s into the receiver before you get a response.

“Sorry, I had to put the phone down because I was laughing too hard.” 

“That’s not fucking nice!” you yell, startling the Bitty in your hand. You awkwardly apologize to it, holding it a little further away from you as you keep talking. “I don’t have any papers for him or anything! Can’t I be sued for kidnapping??! I have to bring him back to the center!”

“Don’t worry about it! The papers are mostly for show, anyway. Anybody can go in, pick a Bitty they like, and take them home! Except the Edgies, I guess, because they’re harder to handle.” Your friend’s calm voice comes over through the speaker, and you find yourself relaxing at their words.

“That doesn’t change the fact that I’m not prepared, or  _ suited _ , to take care of him!” you protest. “I’d be a terrible home for a Bitty. And besides, it’s not like I wanted one in the first place!”

Your friend shushes you. “Be a bit more subtle! Bitties are very sensitive, you know. What kind did you steal?”

“Fuck, man, I don’t know. He’s got a little hoodie on, with stars on it.” you describe him as best as you could, turning your hand around a bit to get a good look at him. The tiny skeleton has curled back up in your hand and is snoozing lightly.

“Must be a Softie, then.” 

“A what?”

Your friend sighs, and you can feel the eyeroll through the phone. “A Soft Bones. That’s one of the rarer ones. Usually people go for Sansy, or Edgies. Even Brassberries. I haven’t heard much about people with Softies.”

Well that’s just lovely. “Do you know what I should feed him, at least?” you ask, feeling tired of this Bittybones business already, and you haven’t even started.

“I’d say to give him milk, it’s the safest way.” Your friend offers. “Besides, milk is good for skeletons. Helps them grow nice and strong.”

“Thanks.” you sigh, looking at the Bitty in your hand. He’s wrapped his arms around your thumb and  drawn it under his head like a pillow. “How’s it going with Edgy, by the way? Doesn’t sound like you’re having too much trouble. He didn’t try to push anything off any tables or shelves yet?”

“Oh, he tried. You’re forgetting a key element about me, though, pal.” your friend laughs. “I used to own a cat.”

Right. Your friend is a cat freak. Good thing they still have their old ‘cat-proof’ stuff from when they had cats. You distinctly remember the chaos that happened way before they’d gotten plastic bowls and stuff, there was glass everywhere in the house. Sometimes, when you go over to their place, a small piece of glass still turns up in the cracks of the floorboards.

“Sounds like you really thought this through, huh?” you grin, hearing the self-satisfaction in their voice.

“I sure did. Hang on, I have to get Edgy before he tries to climb into the ceiling grate.”

“Okay, good luck!” you exclaim.

“You too, buddy!” they reply, and hang up. You pout at the loss of your friend’s rationality and ability to have their shit together. Whatever, you have to figure out how to take care of this Bitty thing, at least until you can get it back to the adoption center.

You fetch your keys from your pocket, for real this time, and open your door. The Bitty in your hand is jostled around a bit as you pat the wall in search of the light switch. You hear a high-pitched protest when the lights come on, and you almost think it’s cute.

Almost.

You can’t handle owning a pet, or any kind of sentient creature that depends on you. You barely have the wherewithal to take care of yourself! It’s tough being in college and trying to make it on your own. 

You look for somewhere soft to put it - no, him - settling on one of the fluffier couch cushions, and head into the kitchen. There are some small jars you’ve been saving up for an art project, but you figure they’d be better to use for the Bitty while he’s here. You pull out your cutlery drawer and dig out the smallest spoon you can find.

Unfortunately, your smallest spoon is still roughly three-quarters of the Bitty’s height and, while you’re sure he can pick it up, there’s no way he can feed himself with it. Back to the drawing board with you.

You check out the shelves in your bathroom cabinets. Maybe one of those small medicine cups would be okay? Those would be roughly the size of a big, deep bowl for him. As you’re rummaging through your supplies, you come across something even better: a small glass dropper.

You pick it out of your basket of supplies and hold it up, wondering where you might have gotten it and what you got it for. Whatever, this is the perfect size for the Bitty, who can pinch it and help himself as he pleases. A small whine from behind you nearly causes you to drop it, and you scramble to catch the dropper before it hits the floor.

You turn around to see the little Bitty standing in the doorway, holding onto the frame like he might fall over at any second. He rubs his eyes and looks up at you with bright, wide eye sockets. 

“Uh, what's up, buddy?” You bend down to look him in the eye. “You looking for something?”

The Bitty nods and points at you. Oh boy. 

“You were looking for me?” You ask, just in case. He nods in confirmation and makes the universal open-armed ‘up’ gesture. You hesitate, not wanting him to become too attached to you in case you really do bring him back, but you figure that it’s okay. Just for today, right?

You put your hand close to him and he immediately crawls up toward your wrist, nestling into the crook and making a small humming noise. He throws his tiny arms around your wrist and squeezes. 

Your heart does a funny little skip and you begin to wonder how much miniature furniture would cost.

\-----

Everything is terrible. You’ve searched your apartment from top to bottom and, somehow, you cannot find Softie. It’s barely been two days, and you’ve already lost him.

You’d only put him down for a second! You grew tired of holding your arm up, so you put him in a bowl full of kleenex so that he could curl up and make himself a little nest, and somehow he managed to pull a fast one on you and disappear completely. You’d turned the bowl over at least five times, and bruised your knees looking under every piece of furniture you own.

You’d even moved the fridge and washing machines, in case the poor Bitty managed to get himself stuck somewhere behind them. You are very relieved to say that, no, he was not behind any of the appliances. 

Well, you’ve got no other choice. You pick your phone out of the mess on your table and hit speed-dial. Your friend picks up after three rings.

“Y’ello?”

“I can’t find him.”

You can practically hear the Jeopardy song playing in both of your heads as you try to use your combined thinking power to figure out where Softy could be hiding. 

“The pamphlet for Softies says not to lose them” your friend informs you.

“Thanks. That does not help me at all.”

You plop down on the couch, biting your nails as you still try to think of places where Softy might be hiding. In a vase or bowl, maybe? No, you don’t have any decorative things deep or empty enough to hold him. Your shoes? You’ve checked them all before, and you’re sure that they wouldn’t be comfortable to sleep in anyway. The couch? You sit up and pat around you, afraid that you might have sat on him- no, nothing’s here either.

“I can’t do this,” you announce to your friend. “I have to bring him back, there’s no way I’m gonna be able to keep track of him if he keeps disappearing like this. I don’t think I’m ready for the responsibility.”

Your friend makes a noise of pity. “Maybe keeping him would be good for you, help you out with your organization and stuff. Besides, Bitties tend to bond really quickly, so who’s to say he’ll even go back willingly?”

“Maybe he hasn’t bonded yet. There’s still a chance.” you argue, burying your head in your free hand. “He deserves someone who’ll take care of him properly. Someone who actually wants him.”

A quiet sniffle comes from behind you, and you turn around to see Softy holding onto the corner of a kleenex with big, blue tears in his eyes. 

“I’ll have to call you later.” you tell your friend, hanging up. You get up and approach the Bitty slowly, afraid to spook him. His mouth moves a bit, and you strain to hear what he’s trying to say. You crouch down beside Softy, leaning your ear real close.

“Y- you don’t want me?” the tiny skeleton whines, wiping his face with the kleenex. It’s the first thing you’ve ever heard him say in the entire day and a half you’ve had him in your care. His entire frame shakes as he makes pathetic little hiccups. You feel your heart pang and you gently reach down to rub his back, feeling him press into your hand.

“That’s not it, buddy, I just…” you’re not sure how to explain it. “I’m not the best person to be taking care of you, right now, y’know?”

Softy shakes his head vigorously and bursts into tears. Oh jeez. 

“B- b- but you’ve been so good to m- me!” he wails, clutching his kleenex closer to his chest, undoubtedly getting tears and whatever other bodily fluids all over the front of his hoodie. “Y- you got me a thing to dr- drink milk, and you made me a- a bed, and you- you’re so  _ nice _ , a- and…”

You pick up the crying and slightly soggy Bitty, holding him to your front and gently rocking him in your hands. Unfortunately, this makes him cry even harder, and you begin to question how good (or bad) you are at comforting people.

“Pl- please don’t take me back like Edgy…” you almost don’t hear it, but your ears are close enough to him to pick up the just of what he’s saying.

“What’s that, buddy?” you ask, though you’re a little afraid that the answer might make you guilty about bringing him back anyway.

“N- nobody keeps Edgy, because h- he always acts mean and does bad things…” Softy sniffs real hard and wipes his face with a new corner of the kleenex. “I- I’m sorry, please don’t take me back, I p- promise I’ll be good! I’ll be better, I won’t get l- lost and I won’t sleep as much, I can be helpful, I- I swear…”

Well doesn’t that just play the tiny violin inside your soul. You stand up and head toward the door, steeling yourself in your resolve.

“NONONONO PLEASE I PROMISE I’LL BE GOOD PLEASE DON’T TAKE ME BACK!!” Softy’s heart-wrenching screams sound from within your cupped hands, and you gently shush him and continue rocking him.

“Shhhh it’s okay buddy, I’m not gonna take you back, okay?” you say in a low voice, as calming as you can manage. “We’re gonna go out and get some things so that you can stay with me, okay?”

Softy’s cries quiet down and you peer into your hands to see him looking up at you with bog, starry-pupil eyes. He sniffs again and wipes the last of his tears from his face with the last corner of the kleenex.

\-----

You agree to meet up with your friend at the park, to get some fresh air for both yourselves and your Bitties.

Your friend has Edgy in one of those plastic bug containers you’d find at the dollar store, and he’s very clearly not happy about his situation if his angry licking at the plastic has anything to say about it.

“How’s it been with you?” you ask, your hands in the pockets of your hoodie. Your friend eyes your choice of apparel with curiosity. It’s definitely not something you’d choose to wear regularly, but you figured that you could be lenient for this occasion.

“It’s been alright, not much trouble really.” they reply, shifting their hold on the Bitty jail. They put it beside them on the park bench where you’re sitting, and Edgy does his best to get the container to tip over. “Honestly, I was expecting a lot more trouble from him, but his behaviour is basically like an angry, frustrated cat.”

“Biting everything included?”

“Yeah, but I still have that recipe for cayenne-water spray from when I owned Plague. Turns out Bitties don’t like that taste either, go figure!”

The two of you joke about getting Edgy a tiny cat costume, just to complete the whole attitude/look. Until your friend remembers something about you and your own Bitty.

“Hey, where did you put Softy? Did you bring him?” they ask, looking around you for any indication of a similar plastic cage, or at least a leash. “Don’t tell me you lost him again?”

“Nah, he’s right here.” you say, and pull the clever kangaroo-style pouch on the front of your hoodie open. It’s much larger than the Bitty within, bt it provides a nice warm place for him to nestle. And, yep, there he is in the corner hear the pockets where your hands go.

Your friend coos over the adorable sleepy Bitty and you give them a smug look, like a proud parent showing off their kid at PTA meetings. You stick your hands back in your pockets while your friend holds open the pouch so that they can keep watching the little Bitty.

“I told him that he doesn’t need to keep going around the house to look for comfy places to sleep, since that’s how he got lost the first time. Can you believe that he thought the medicine cabinet would be a good place to sleep?” you chuckle at the memory of asking Softie where he went, that day when you lost him and freaked out. “Now, when he wants to sleep, he can teleport into this pouch and I’ll carry him around.”

“But what if you have to wash the hoodie?” your friend asks and, wow, you were so prepared for this.

“I have one in every available colour!” you announce proudly, feeling glad that you had the foresight to get so many of them. You feel Softy curl up closer to your hand and you rub his head through the fabric.

“Look at you, being responsible and everything!” your friend lightly punches your shoulder. Beside them, Edgy finally managed to tip over the container but the top didn’t come off like he seemed to have been hoping for. He digs his feet into the plastic and tries to pop the lid open, but you know your friend must have taped it shut.

“What can I say? He’s just too precious to bring back.” you shrug, a lazy grin coming over your face. “Now, I always have portable adorable!”

Your friend groans at your choice of words and picks up Edgy’s plastic box, walking away at a brisk pace. You laugh and heave yourself up, jogging a bit to catch up. 

In your pocket, Softy stirs and climbs sluggishly to the top of the pocket, poking his head over the lip of the pouch. He sees your friend walking away in the distance, and you laughing above him good-naturedly. He lets a contented smile cross his features as he hands his arms over the side of the pouch, closing his eyes with a tiny hum.

You were wrong, he knows. You are more than suited to take care of him. You’re a little spacey, at times, and you’re not always the best at keeping track of things... but despite everything, he couldn’t have picked a better owner.

**Author's Note:**

> [this hoodie btw](http://bkamk2n4huw2aiwkri2v375z.wpengine.netdna-cdn.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/05/mewgaroo-hoodie-pet-pouch-e1432118893126.jpg) just imagine it on a bunch of other colours and patterns i guess ??
> 
> if you see any mistakes just tell me and I'll go through it lol


End file.
